Sightings
by Toblerone
Summary: Ahhh why do I have such random ideas? I wish I knew. Oh well. AU, you'll figure out why once you read it. ML. Reviews Appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, yes, I know, it's totally unfair of me to start a new story when ALT isn't done yet. I agreee with you. I swore to myself I wasn't even going to write this until I finished the last chap on that, but this son of a B just kept pushing at the back of my brain and it would not leave me alone. I'm sorry, it was getting really annoying. If it makes you feel any better the final chap of At Least This is almost done (I swear). **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but your soul! Mwhahahaha!**

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**Sightings**

_By Toblerone_

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He wearily pushed through the entrance of the old building. The neon "Katie's Dinner" sign had shone through the night like a beacon and the disappointed traveler, along with his concerned personal trainer/guru had agreed that the shabby looking establishment would have to do. After a long day of chasing dead ends and begrudgingly admitting defeat, they were famished. And although Logan generally ate less then he had in the glory days when genetically engineered angels dropped in regularly demanding fine dining, the grumblings of his stomach had grown too loud to ignore.

His eyes stung a little as he took a minute to let them adjust to the harsh lighting. It was sickeningly bright inside. He damned florescent bulbs and lighting in general, and for a moment he pined for the comforting cover of darkness. Bling was talking to a skinny, older woman with a weathered face, short gray hair, and a pale yellow uniform (complete with a small apron), when his power of sight finally returned to him. The place was fairly deserted, but a few older men sat on stools at the counter. One was staring morosely at an empty beer bottle, while another was scrapping the last bit of what looked like cherry pie from his plate.

Patsy Cline's mournful voice sang out from an ancient looking radio at the end of the counter (next to the man with the pie).

Logan felt as if he had entered some sort of bizarre time warp. He had been sure places like "Katie's" didn't exist anymore, except in movies. Apparently, however, if one drove far enough to be disappointed one could find a surreal eating establishment from the fifties (or earlier, he honestly had no idea what time period this place belonged).

He sighed and followed Bling and the aged waitress to a table by the windows. The woman smiled at him as she grabbed a chair and pulled it out of the way so he could fit at the table. He smiled with gratitude as he rolled into place. A small, cracked name plate read "Maggie," and he wondered just how long Maggie had been pulling chairs out of the way for the handicapped.

"I'll go get you boys some coffee." He decided he loved Maggie.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes before gazing, unseeingly out a large dark window. Involuntarily his thought drifted to Max, and what she would think of such a place. He could picture her initial incredulous look, then her smirk of mischief (preceding a clever comment). _What would she say?_ He never knew that part. He memorized her facial expressions long before she slipped out of his life forever, but the source of her witty rejoinders forever remained a mystery to him. He had never known what she was going to say next… but then he had preferred it that way, he always had something to look forward to… until she was gone.

He knew that he was one of the lucky few, that not many people had such blissful memories to comfort and torture them on rainy afternoons. He knew he should be grateful that he had at least at a few stolen pictures on his computer and the memory of her smile to get him out of bed in the morning. But still… he missed her…

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. She'd been gone from him longer than she had been with him. It had been almost a year since she pulled at his lips with her own and then ran up the steps into his family's cabin. He hadn't heard from her, hadn't found any reports on the net about black helicopters picking up fugitives in Canada, hadn't received any cryptic phone messages. She was gone. Safe, hopefully, but gone.

His gaze shifted to the table in front of him and he realized that there were no menus.

"Are we going to order?" he asked, confused.

"I already did."

"Oh," he replied tiredly. It had been a long year.

Bling had been a little surprised when Logan decided, with very little provocation, to stop their trek back to Seattle. Not often would the single minded Eyes Only condescend to acknowledge such a petty weakness as hunger. It usually took a battle (or at least a very stern lecture) to force his stubborn patient to pause his crusade long enough for a meal or some sleep.

He surveyed his charge with a concerned and clinical eye. It was clear that Logan was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. For the past month Logan had chased lead after lead, only to be led out to tiny dead end town in the middle of nowhere. The case was a typical unsolvable post-pulse sob story, the kind Logan had passed over in the past. However, these days Logan took on just about every case he could get his hands on. Broadcasts were occurring at an all time high. At least once a week (sometimes twice) the red, white and blue banner would take over all active television sets in Seattle and a worn but seemingly victorious Eyes Only would report the truth and save the day.

Good for Seattle, the American public, and justice in general. Not so good for Logan Cale. He barely slept, hardly ate, and only left the house to meet informants. The man was a machine… and was slowly killing himself.

He'd never really fully recovered from the near fatal, emergency surgery he'd endured nearly a year ago. He would have died had it not been for a nurse with the same blood type, who'd volunteered at the last minute to give a transfusion. Any normal person would have taken it easy after such an ordeal. But Logan hated hospitals, inactivity, and being forced to nothing but stare into space and think about her. So he had started working before he should have, and pushed himself harder than was healthy.

Add to all that a broken heart and Logan was pretty much a mess.

Not that he would ever acknowledge any of this to anyone, least of all he's most trusted friend. Logan was forever "fine" and refused to admit otherwise, but Bling knew better. Her absence had taken a severe toll on him. Bling had seen the occasional far-off looks, heard him mumble her name after falling asleep at the computer, and caught him staring at pictures of her he had gotten from the building's security cameras.

"_It's ok to miss her."_ He'd told his friend after one such instance. He had been ignored.

"_I'm fine. I was just-" _

"_Missing the woman you love." _He was done playing along with Logan's games by this point. The time for subtlety was over as far as Bling was concerned. He's given the man space and he'd nearly destroyed himself.

"_She wasn't… I mean, we weren't…" _He'd stared at his computer screen for a moment. _"We weren't like that, she was a friend, and yeah I miss her but it wasn't like…" _he'd hit the table in frustration suddenly, surprising both Bling and himself, before a rare moment of honesty and clarity, _"she wasn't here that long… she wasn't even **here **really… why does it feel like this, she was never… we weren't like that." _

"_Except you were. Both of you-" _

"_Well it doesn't matter anymore does it?" _He'd yelled,_ "What we were, whatever it was, is over now. Done. I'm never going to see her again. She's gone…"_ the look of controlled despair, had tore at Bling and he'd felt an intense sense of sadness for his friend and all he had lost, all he had never had.

"_Logan… You have to let yourself-"_

"_You know what, I have work to do. No prep talks today ok? Good." _

And just like that the subject was closed. Bling would try to broach the subject every now and then, but Logan refused to ever discuss it again. He'd suffer in silence and save the world and that was that.

Logan ignored Bling's constant concerned gaze and glanced over to the door Maggie had disappeared behind. God, he wanted coffee. He wanted to be back in Seattle, back in his apartment, back in front of computer working on some new case that would actually have some result and impact, he wanted the comfort of his keyboard and his informants, and he wanted-

But then all thoughts of what he thought he wanted disappeared, because there she was.

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...TBC...

Reviews always appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

**Diclaimer: I own nada! **

A/N Holy Crap an update! Yay!

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**Sightings**

_**Part II **_

_By Toblerone_

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For several moments there was no conscious thought. He could scarcely breathe, let alone focus enough to think, to analyze this unforeseen situation. When faced with unexpected circumstances, Logan's mind was typically sharp and fast. Plans B, C, D and F would automatically be considered and utilized or dismissed and Plan G would instantly occur to him. He had imagined, naturally, what it might be like to see her again. However he had been very careful to remind himself, constantly, that these musings were pure fiction. The cold hard truth, he told himself daily, was that such a sighting was impossible. He had never once truly believed that she would come back to Seattle, to him, or that the world was actually small enough for a chance meeting to take place. He was not so optimistic. Not anymore. 

But there she was in a pale yellow uniform, serving coffee to a tiny old man. The only difference in her appearance was that her hair was blonde, and much longer than he had ever seen it. He watched, captivated, as she smiled softly, listening as the wrinkled customer (obviously a regular) described something to her. The man was gesticulating wildly, quite involved in his tale, and Max nodded indulgently every so often.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He stared. He was sure that she must have been a hallucination brought on by a year of sleeplessness and malnutrition. _Where had she come from, why hadn't he noticed her there before?_ Perhaps he had fallen asleep at the wheel and was now unconscious, in a ditch, bleeding, and dreaming of heaven while waiting for certain death. He hoped Bling would survive the crash.

As shock wore off a little, his heart began to pound, his mouth went dry, his palms were suddenly moist and he absently rubbed his hands over his thighs in an effort to dry them off. A debilitating bout of nervousness overtook him all of sudden. There she was, as enthralling as she was the first time he laid eyes on her. And him? He was a wreck. He hadn't shaved in days and what was once slightly annoying stubble was now a full blown beard (and an untrimmed and not at all groomed beard at that). He was thinnest he'd ever been, and not at all healthy looking. His hair, thankfully, was as short as it had been when she had left (Bling had literary forced him a barbers' about a week before, claiming that he looked like a "dirty hippie"), but he hadn't showered that morning, in his rush to be on the road. He supposed that he was greasy by now. She, on the other hand, looked perfectly clean. Perfectly perfect.

And just like that all the memories he had spent a great deal of time and effort repressing, broke free and an incredible heartsickness tore through all that was left of his self control. He felt drained, like he hadn't the strength to fight his own defenses anymore. He was so tired, physically and mentally … he was so goddamn tired of longing and regretting. His throat itched with unspoken words and he felt sick with wanting. He wanted to be rid of the constant dull ache he carried… but that was impossible…

Bling watched in bewilderment as a range of emotions flashed across Logan's face. His back to the kitchen, he did not notice the appearance of his friend's beloved cat burglar. What he did notice was the way Logan's skin paled. He looked almost nauseous and, Bling noted with concern, his tense grip on the edge of the table had made his knuckles white. Logan's self neglect naturally made him ill from time to time; maybe that was what happening now. Bling was about to reach out a hand to take Logan's temperature when he noticed the direction of his friend's intent gaze. He turned to look and just like that the ever unfazed and consistently calm side-kick felt his jaw drop.

Maggie reappeared with their coffee just as Max turned and disappeared into what they could only assume was the kitchen. Bling managed to give his thanks and make light conversation with the waitress, but Logan was lost – his thoughts spinning and his head pounding.

"Your food will be right out. You boys enjoy that coffee."

"Thanks."

Logan stirred and sipped his coffee mechanically, his eyes still trained on the spot he had last seen her. Bling watched in silence. Although he obviously had more control of his thoughts and understanding of the situation than Logan, he had no idea how to respond. If Max saw them what would she do? How would the two star-crossed lovers respond to each other? Would they ever recover from such an encounter? They wouldn't be able to stay long in this tiny diner in this tiny town. However long Logan allowed himself to linger in the place where she lived, the responsibilities he left behind would pull at him, and He and Bling would have to return to Seattle at one point or another. And who knew if it was even remotely safe for Max to come back with them? Not that Bling believed they would let themselves admit their need to be together. He had hoped, adamantly, that they would one day see past the excuses they had made, so long ago, and give into the love that was so evidently there. But, he was, sadly, very much doubtful that his hopes would ever be realized. But, he was getting ahead of himself. Max didn't even know they were there yet. Maybe Logan wouldn't even let her see them – maybe he would make them leave before she could. Or maybe they would exchange a few awkward words and Logan and Bling would flee into the night. Only longing eyes staring into a rearview mirror would indicate that any meeting had occurred, and the incident would never be spoken of again… Maybe… All he could do at this point was wait and see.

"Did you…" Logan was still staring, and Bling thought that maybe he had spoken without realizing it. But then Logan turned and looked him right in the eye. He looked like he was struggling to comprehend the world around him. "Did you see her?"

"Yes."

Logan sighed with what Bling could only assume was relief. Had he thought her a hallucination, a dream? It wasn't too hard to believe, considering Logan's extreme exhaustion.

"Logan-" Bling began but Logan shushed him because she had returned. She placed a slice of pie in front of the story telling old man. They exchanged a few words that Logan couldn't hear. But then Maggie was back with their food – sandwiches – and Logan couldn't take the suspense anymore.

"That waitress," Logan motioned towards Max, not really thinking about what he was saying, "has she worked here long?"

"Hmm?" She looked back at Max. "Oh, you mean Lizzie? Yeah, she's been here a few months… Why?"

"Uh…We uh, we used to work with her." It's the first thing that popped into his head and Maggie looked a little skeptical.

Bling cleared his throat and took control, "We haven't seen her in a while. Bit of a shock."

"Yeah…" Logan trailed off, still staring at Max. Maggie frowned and looked from Logan to "Lizzie" and back. She raised an eyebrow and threw Bling an inquisitive glance. He shrugged, gave her a look that seemed say _I've been dealing with this for a while now, _and sipped his coffee. She turned and watched her young friend, oblivious to the many eyes on her, go back into the kitchen – probably to get more pie.

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It was a slow night. Sundays always were at Katie's. Only a few of the regulars were at the counter. Old Roy who had somewhat of a crush on her, Jim who was drowning his sorrows (what exactly those were he never said) with his third beer, and Bob who just liked Maggie's pie. On Sundays Roy liked to tell her about his adventurous days in the Navy, and tonight had been no exception. He was funny old guy and his sparkling green eyes reminded her home, so she had smiled and listened and nodded at the appropriate moments. 

Calm as it was, she'd never really liked Sunday nights. When it was busy, when she had a lot to do – balancing trays and dealing with customers – it was easier to ignore the persistent memories and remaining regret. It was Sundays, like this one, when she'd think of him the most. Think of his eyes begging her to say but his voice telling her to go. Think of the sudden feeling of dread that claimed her halfway through that first night – when she reached for the phone in a near panic and then pulled away from it just as fast. _I can't go back now_ she had told herself then _It wouldn't be safe – for either of us. _The worst Sundays were when it rained. Not only were there less customers, but the rain made her think of Seattle. Of thunderstorms spent in his penthouse, candles lit during power outages, his eyes watching the droplets roll down the wide windows.

Sometimes these memories, these images, were comforting. They could help her get through particularly stressful days. Life couldn't be all that bad if there was someone like Logan out there in the world – protecting the downtrodden and maybe missing her just badly as she missed him. But, she had found, more often then not, her musings were painful – mournful, even. Their time together had been so short, it difficult not to wish for more. _It wouldn't have made a difference _she tells herself often _even if I had been there for longer, for years, we never would have been… together. _But despite all she tells herself, all she knows, she finds herself longing for the impossible every so often.

This was such a time, such a Sunday. He'd been there with her, in the back of her mind all day – more so than usual. She had felt strange all day, like she was expecting something to happen. And, when the day was ending and all that was left was Roy, Jim, and Bob, she'd felt the oddest sense of disappointment. Some others had come in apparently, while she had cleaning in the kitchen. But when she'd gone out Roy had grabbed her attention and Bob had asked for more pie, so she hadn't seen if the arrivals were the answer to her weird anxiousness.

Max was heating up Bob's pie (the last slice), when Maggie came into the kitchen. Leaning against the door frame, Maggie studied her young co-worker. Lizzie was an interesting gal that much Maggie had picked up on right away. She was sassy and fun most days, but very vague about her past, almost secretive at times. There moments, when she thought herself alone or unnoticed, when Maggie would see a look of sadness overtake her pretty features. It was plain to see that Liz was a woman with a past. Maggie didn't push or ask questions, that wasn't her place. But she had come to consider Liz a friend, and would like to see her happy, if that was at all possible.

"There are some boys out there. Say they know you."

Max looked up from the microwave where Bob's pie was spinning in circles, a perplexed expression on her face.

"Boys?"

"Yeah, one's a big black guy, other one's in a wheelchair."

Maggie watched as Liz tensed.

"Wheelchair?" Her voice trembled as her eyes grew wide.

"Yeah… You ok?" The color had drained out of Liz's face. Maggie was beginning to wonder just who these guys were, that could raise such a reaction out of a girl who had thrown out four very large drunken construction workers, with relative ease only the day before.

"Yeah, Yeah I'm fine."

"Want me to get rid of them?" Maggie walked towards her, a little worried.

"No! I mean, no it's fine, I uh… it sounds like, um, some people I used to know…"

She went to the door frame and scanned the restaurant, spotting them easily. She wondered how she missed them before. She almost smiled at the sigh of the back of Bling's Bald head, but the man across from him took all her attention. _Logan._ His brow was furrowed and he was staring at the table in concentration, his mind clearly working. The familiar expression made her hear beat faster. He was scruffier than he was when she left, thinner too – but it was him. _Logan._

"You in trouble Lizzie?" Maggie voice came from behind and Max heard the concern.

Bob's pie was done heating and the microwave beeped shrilly. Logan looked up suddenly and their eyes met once again, as if there had never a time when they were not gazing into each other's depths.

"I might be."

**...TBC...**

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**Reviews appreciated**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: NOTHING IS MINE.**

A/N: I live! I LIVE!

A/N2: This is much, much shorter than it originally was. I cut a bunch of unnecessary stuff (that'll probably end up in OA&D). And now it all kind of makes sense.

A/N3: This is by no means the end of sightings, in case your worried. There is more in the works, but it might take me a while. Sorry about the long waits.

A/N4: (Holy crap there are a lot of author notes today) Eva Cassidy's cover of Cydi Lauper's _Time After Time_ is why your finally all reading this. There was nothing coming and then I heard that song and it was like a light bulb went on.

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**Sightings**

_**Part III **_

_By Toblerone_

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"Should I call the sheriff?"

"What?" Startled, Max unthinkingly broke eye contact and sharply turned to her concerned co-worker. Wide-eyed and breathless she stammered an excuse for her startled demeanor and cryptic responses.

"No! No, Maggie, it's not that kind of trouble…"

"Oh… Boy trouble then?"

"Yeah," she almost laughed, "boy trouble."

She turned back to the kitchen doorway only to see that his gaze was directed at Bling, who leaned forward and nodded as Logan said something. His eyes were intense and focused. She gripped the doorframe, remembering the way her pulse used to quicken when he'd turn away from the computer or the widows and look at her in a way only he could. She'd dreamed of those eyes. Of the different meanings they could reveal, of the varying emotions they could draw out of her. Of the things they could make her do, if only she'd dare. Such responses only Logan could produce from her. Only he could make her shudder at a mere remembrance.

"Want me to get rid of them?" She'd almost forgotten that Maggie was there.

"No, that's alright," she went to the microwave, retrieved Bob's pie, and took a deep breath to steady herself. Every half decent soldier knows that there is always more than one way to approach a volatile situation. Attack, retreat, or wait – those were the basics. But, once again, he's thrown her off balance. He was not an enemy, not a threat nor a target. No, he was something much more dangerous. Zack would call him a resurfaced liability; Kendra would say he was a lost love.

"Lizzie?"

"It's nothing. Everything's fine." She replied automatically. She went to the door and like the finely trained soldier Lydecker had striven so hard to create, held her head high, forced the nervousness from her mind, and focused on her mission – get Bob his pie.

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Bling was starting to get concerned. Logan face had changed from pale to green.

"You alright?"

"What?"

"You going to be sick?"

"What? No. I'm fine."

There was that word again.

"Uh huh. You've pretty much destroyed that sandwich. Why don't you put it down?" Logan looked down to see that he was gripping what used to be a slice of a grilled cheese sandwich – now mush in his hand.

"Damn it." He grabbed a napkin angrily as Bling watched, bemused.

He crumpled the napkin into a ball and glanced at his reflection in the closest window.

"I look pretty bad don't I?" He asked, keeping his eyes on his transparent mirror image.

Bling shrugged and finished his coffee.

"You've looked better."

Logan gave a disgruntled grunt and ran a hand through his hair.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"What's ridiculous?"

"This! She's... she's…"

"She's what?"

"There! Here! In this diner, in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah, but then again so are we."

"This is serious Bling. This doesn't happen – you don't just stumble into a diner and find people who have disappeared."

Bling nodded solemnly but couldn't hold back a smirk. He shouldn't be enjoying this. His friend was obviously in the midst of a panic attack… but it was all so wonderfully familiar. The fidgeting, the anxiousness – the nervous energy that had left with her was back in full swing. Of course it was a bit more desperate than he remembered and not as finely hidden as it used to be, but it was there. It had been so long since Logan had been anything else but focused, that the squirming confusion was nothing short of refreshing.

"People don't just cross paths like this," Logan muttered, absently scratching at his beard as he picked up the beat-up metal napkin dispenser on the table and studied his blurred likeness.

"Maybe it's fate."

Bling went to sip his coffee, but then remembered he'd already finished. As he frowned down at the empty cup he missed the look of recognition that overcame Logan's features at his words

"Crossed paths by fate?" He whispered before looking out the big windows, as if to contemplate the dark outlines of the trees shaking in the wind.

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She was always very good at missions. Bob happily picked up his fork and began devouring the pie as soon as Max placed it in front of him. She nodded curtly and attempted a small smile at his brief thanks before wiping her damp palms on her apron. She nearly glanced over at their table but stopped herself. For some reason she could not yet bring herself to approach them. Lydecker would call her a coward; Original Cindy would tell her to step into real and face the man.

Jim coughed loudly and the radio announcer declared it was time for a change of pace and named the upcoming song, but all Max could hear was thunder booming in the distance. She had tasted rain in the air on her way to work that morning and Maggie had been complaining about her hip all day. This storm was expected. The heavy wind, freezing rain, and resulting wreckage would come of no surprise to anyone. Unforgiving forces of nature Max could handle. Blizzards and hurricanes were damaging but temporary disturbances. She'd survived enough of them to know how navigate around the debris.

Maggie came out behind her, coffee in hand. The older woman started towards the table with the two strangers, but then stopped when Max put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take it over," she said quietly. Maggie looked like wanted to say something for a moment, but then sighed and wordlessly handed her the pot. Max gripped it firmly and took a deep breath. Before she could make herself move the questions came in a rush - _Why had he come? How had he found her? Did he miss her?_

_No, don't think. Just go. _

"Lizzie, did I ever tell you about the time I nearly got Maggie to marry me?" Max blinked and turned to Roy – in all the excitement she'd forgotten he was even there. Roy eagerly leaned forward on his stool, barely containing a grin as he looked from the shocked Lizzie to the fuming Maggie. If looks could kill, Roy would have fallen down dead from the glare Maggie sent his way.

"She doesn't want to hear that stupid story Roy," Maggie spat, and Roy shrank down into his stool.

"Actually," she could not, even at this crucial moment hold back the burst of curiosity and thrill of gossip._ A side effect of small town living._ "I would like to hear that story. But right now-"

"I almost got a woman to marry me once," Jim slurred from his corner. He stared at the three empty bottles in front of him, but said no more.

Max opened her mouth to speak, but could not think of an appropriate response. She looked to Maggie, but saw she was still glaring at Roy.

She was thinking that _this night could not possibly be anymore random_ when she felt his eyes on her once again. And just like that Maggie's menacing expression, Roy's unfortunate bragging, Jim's mysterious past, Bob's pie eating habits – all the strange, normal things that had become part of everyday life simply faded away. And there was only him, this man she had left behind.

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The little old man had carelessly yelled out her alias and of course there she was. It was like being woken from a dream too real or finally resting after hours of traveling. She was real and holding a pot of coffee and side stepping an angry waitress and walking towards him. Her pale yellow uniform seemed soft and odd on her – so unlike the warrior in leather jackets who had lounged about his apartment so long ago. As she came closer and closer time seemed to slow and for a terrifying moment he thought perhaps it was a dream after all. But the look in her eyes, though familiar, was not one he could have dreamed up.

_Is it really you?_ They seemed to ask.

He could only hope his returning look held the appropriate response.

They were silent when she reached the table. Distantly, she heard Maggie's yelling and Bling clearing his throat. From the radio Doris Day coyly sang out "perhaps, perhaps, perhaps," but all she could hear was that strange little word Original Cindy used to use all time.

She had a million things to say, but they all fled her head the moment she needed to say them. So she looked down at their table and asked what every good waitress should.

"Coffee?"

**...TBC...**

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Reviews are appreciated (and sometimes inspirational)


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